Spring Tree Above the Village
by Kunshi Sekijou
Summary: One shot. "Your dream is like a Spring Tree and your subconscious, the village. No matter how much you deny your dream in your conscious mind, it's still there, hovering over your subconscious." Yukimura x Yanagi.


**Disclaimer: No, I don't own _Prince of Tennis. _**

**A/N:** "Spring Tree Above the Village" is actually a direct translation of Murakami Haruki's name. "Murakami" means "above the village" and "Haruki" means "spring tree." This story is inspired by Murakami's works.

**NOTES:** Symbolism. Analytical conversations. Water to honey. Yanagi POV.

**1st Revision: September 15th, 2011**

* * *

><p><strong>[BGM: <strong>Yiruma - "First Love"**]**  
><strong>[BGM: <strong>Iryu - "Blue Dragon" (piano & guitar version)**]**

**Spring Tree Above the Village**

**~村上春樹~**

"You seem distracted."

Seiichi said. Or rather, that was what he _possibly _said.

Actually, he did not catch the entirety of Seiichi's statement. Though, one word did manage to swim through the jumbled jabber in the crowded diner and the constant contemplation inside his mind.

The keyword, "distracted." He used it to hypothesize the rest of the statement.

It was a usual weekend for their friendly outing. Seiichi had taken advantage of him as a human calculator again during his shopping spree. As the bags of trendy clothes Seiichi hooked to the crook of his arm increased in numbers, he began to ponder about the motive behind his companion's sudden splurge when the other evidently already owned an extensive wardrobe at home.

When he did ask, Seiichi only smiled mysteriously and replied. "It's for the vacation."

He nodded, simply accepting the vague answer and the other's rare lack of explanation.

After Seiichi finally satisfied himself, they ate lunch at a nearby diner. He must have been staring out the window at the passersby on the busy streets for too long that Seiichi felt the need to redirect his attention.

"You seem distracted."

Across the table, Seiichi stirred the last of his iced tea casually with the drinking straw. Since the other looked down at his drink, his words sounded more rhetorical than response-eliciting.

But he replied to his rhetorical-sounding statement anyway. Because he knew Seiichi required an answer. Because he understood how the other hid careful consideration under his casualness as a way to prevent the conversation from becoming a confrontation.

"Just a bit." No, he did not want to elaborate.

He turned his gaze back to the view outside the window to the people shuffling past one another. Staring hard at the scene through the thin slits of his eyes, he tried grasping the subtle exchanges between the people regardless of their relation (or lack of, therefore) to one another. He could not hear the outside occurrences; the motion-picture a muted movie before his eyes. But then, the way the mixed chatter all around them blended with the popular background music seemed to have given the picture ahead of him appropriate sounds. The two parts pieced together oddly well.

Seiichi caught onto his reserve, his withdrawal from further conversation.

"You're looking for inspiration? I doubt you're going to get any inspiration here with all this distraction."

Seiichi knew of his personal plan for the summer.

Seiichi knew of his recently developed habit, how he lets his eyes wander with his mind in search for inspiration that would contribute to the construction of his personal plan.

Seiichi also knew of his unsuccessful attempts at bringing it to reality.

Because of distractions, Seiichi said. Because he was almost tired of the familiarity of this place, the place he resided at for seven years, two months and eight days. Because he would anxiously await the mail delivery everyday to check for the certain letter his parents expected him to receive. Yes, those were distractions.

He needed to get out of this place, full of distractions.

"So, let's go to Yamagata. I've got relatives there who own a ryokan (1). I stay at their place most of the time during the summer."

Then he remembered. Genichirou went away for the summer too. To train under his grandfather's friend who was a kendo master. Their friend had something he committed himself to this summer.

That meant only he and Seiichi would be going.

He thought again of the "distraction" Seiichi talked about. What if Seiichi became a distraction?

He continued staring out the window, while the focus of his mind drifted to the one sitting before him. Strangely, Seiichi stopped talking after his invitation.

Would Seiichi really become a distraction?

...

He intended to spend the entire summer composing a novel.

Such a plan did not spring out of spontaneity, of course. It was the writer's instincts, the longing to compose a deep and sentimental story, he inherited from the authors after spending several years reading their classic works of literature.

Once he accepted such a responsibility, he planned and marked the completion for each chapter of his story on the weekly planner he usually carried with him. A chapter a week, for ten weeks straight.

Even though ten weeks seemed like a long time, time passed faster than anyone imagined. Especially for those who mistakenly perceived time to be an abundant luxury.

He realized what little time he had.

Renji agreed to go with Seiichi to Yamagata. It was a summer vacation for Seiichi. It was an escape from this place of distractions for him. He did not mind that the two of them viewed this trip so differently. Though, he would no doubt object if their dissimilar perceptions managed to clash in the future.

They rode the train to Tokyo city from their residence in Kanagawa prefecture. And from Tokyo, they boarded the bullet train (2) to Yamagata.

His work began the instant he settled in the reclining cloth seat. Withdrawing into solitude, he started fishing for inspiration in the passing scenery outside the window.

He saw office buildings and industrial structures crammed together in a densely populated urban area slowly spread out, then finally giving away to a brand new landscape as if someone had replaced a playing slideshow outside his window. He saw wide plains rise to occasional hills, then black and brown dots of livestock scattered across vast farmland. It disappointed him that he could not take time to recognize every fine detail. The train's speed did not allow for such.

He gazed at the scenery outside tirelessly, forsaking food and rest. Even though his composure made no revelation, staring outside at the passing scenery gave him the same jolt of excitement as standing on court. He was traveling to an unfamiliar setting. But that did not trouble him, for the place existed merely as an unexplored territory somewhere within his beloved country. Just like, as much as every match differed from one another, they still existed in the vast realm of tennis. The same realm he enjoyed exploring in his leisure time.

He had completely forgotten his traveling companion until foreign weight on his shoulder reminded him of the other's existence.

He turned to see Seiichi dozing, his soft breath brushing his neck. Sleep had tipped him from his center of gravity. The other must have been nodding off for quite a while until he fell upon him.

The extra weight upon his shoulder did not bother him. Adapting quickly, his sight sought the scene outside again.

...

After they exited the train, they took a fifteen minute bus ride to a quiet little section in the city. Then they walked, hauling their luggage behind them, for a few minutes prior to finally arriving at a construction of traditional architecture.

Renji thought it seemed a bit out of place in its modern environment.

The innkeeper greeted them at the entrance. It was a short and petite woman dressed in a dark, monochromatic kimono with her graying hair pulled back into a neat bun.

She smiled a genuine welcome and showed them into the busy entrance hall.

Renji watched Seiichi chat merrily with the innkeeper, who he learned to be the other's aunt.

Seiichi's relative saved them one of the finest rooms. Soon, the other accepted the room key and bid his aunt goodbye with a dazzling smile. Physical appearances impacted social relationships. And Seiichi definitely used such a truth skillfully to his advantage, he thought.

They meandered through a series of hallways under Seiichi's direction. From the other's familiarity with the place, Renji concluded that Seiichi's relative must have prepared the same room for him each time he visited.

They entered a washitsu(3) complete with a main area, a veranda overlooking the garden, an area for the futons and television and small bathroom.

Renji began writing immediately after they settled down.

He poured all the inspiration he packed himself with onto paper. His writing utensil twitched violently, its point sprinting from line to line. He poured all the inspiration he packed himself with onto paper. As if a part of him threatened to disappear otherwise and he would not be able to prove that it once existed.

He did not know how long it was until he finally stopped, exhausted and empty of the inspiration he collected along the way.

When he looked up, he realized his travel companion knelt across from him at the ebony low table. The other lifted his head from his own work and grinned at him.

Renji noticed a black sketch pad lying open, exposing Seiichi's work.

Beside his tennis talent, Seiichi had quite the artistic talent as well.

The other made a sketch.

A cluster of block houses, representing a village. And an oversized tree with pink leaves hovering above that village.

He was not a gardener. He did not recognize the tree Seiichi had drawn. But Seiichi was a gardener. He was also the artist of this work. So it became most reasonable for him to inquire the other about the sketch instead of leading a directionless search in books or on the internet.

"What is that?"

"What's what?" His companion blinked innocently. The other knew well he referred to the only unfamiliar object in the drawing.

"The tree. It does not seem like an ordinary tree." He pointed at the object so that Seiichi could not feign ignorance again.

"Oh, that? It's a Spring Tree." Seiichi said. "Yeah, it doesn't really exist. I made it up, combining parts of different existing trees. I figured, if you're writing a fictional story, then I can make the objects in my drawing fictional as well."

Renji nodded.

"So why did you make your tree hover over the village like that?" He posed another question. Seiichi's unique design provoked his curiosity.

"So everyone in the village is reminded of its existence. Again and again. So they can't just dismiss it, because it's something they're going to see no matter what."

Renji studied the tree further.

Seiichi studied him as intently as he studied the tree. "Your dream, too, is like a Spring Tree and your subconscious, the village. No matter how much you deny your dream in your conscious mind, it's still there, hovering over your subconscious."

"Unless the tree is chopped down." Renji attached.

Seiichi snorted. "So you will spend more effort getting rid of its existence than just simply accepting it. You're making things more complicated, you know?"

Renji chose to remain silent, this time treating Seiichi's response-eliciting question as a rhetorical one instead.

A moment later, he spoke again.

"The villagers of that village will acknowledge that tree. Yet, once they grow tired of such an everyday sight, or decide that they need something more appealing to look at, they will emigrate from the village."

Just like, after this summer, after he finishes this book, the only book he planned on writing in his entire life, he will discard his writer's instincts. He will return to reality. He will study medicine at a prestigious university like his parents wished for him.

…

The trip that Seiichi labeled as a vacation turned out to be unlike one after all.

There were few, rare days they actually spent touring around the city and taking walks at a nearby mountain trail. There were the rainy days where they simply sat at the veranda of their room, watching the rain drench the garden and the water seep into the soil to form tiny swamps in the grass.

Then, there were times where he concentrated entirely on his writing for two or three days straight.

During those times, he was usually found sitting at the veranda, back leaning against a wooden pillar, and a notebook leaning against his drawn up thighs. Whenever he paused for more inspiration, he would turn to stare out into the garden, his focus darting from stone lantern to stone lantern. He attempted to conjure up images he saw outside the window of the bullet train. Sometimes, he succeeded. But only for a few moments did he see those images clearly before they dissipated into an intense headache and blank irritation.

The only times he got up was to go to the bathroom, or to retrieve a bottle of water. At times, he totally let his meals go down to hell.

Once those periods of time passed, he would sleep for an entire day, wake up, and struggle through the cycle again.

Unexpectedly, Seiichi did not become one of those distractions he thought he would become.

Surprisingly, Seiichi left him in his solitude during those periods. He never asked him if he wanted anything to eat, or suggested that he retire to bed at the end of the day.

Yet, he would see hand-made origiri wrapped in clear plastic in a plate with oriental designs on the table whenever he returned to the main area. And whenever he awoke from his long sleep, he would already be lying on his futon under the blanket in his _yukata._

Soon, he began noticing Seiichi's absence during the periods of his total withdrawal. Later, he learned that the other used the time to help his relatives serve customers around the ryokan. Seiichi joked about how he seemed to have gotten quite popular among the female clients. That some even return each summer just to see him.

…

The summers in Yamagata are hot and humid, Seiichi told him. And a week would never go without rain.

It was another dreary rainy day. It was another day they sat at the veranda just watching the dim sky send silver streaks into the ground.

A few raindrops hit his skin occasionally at random.

Seiichi's question, too, swiped him as unexpectedly as the wet droplets.

"Do you think it's possible for someone to understand someone else's needs without any verbal communication?"

He absorbed the question like the soil slowly soaking up the water.

"Then, they must share a connection somehow in order for one to understand the other."

"Love." Seiichi said simply. "Love is what connects them. Like a mother and her baby. Babies can't talk, so all they do is cry. But because the mother loves her child, she can understand what he needs even when he can't tell her."

"But she might also know because she had been taking care of her child for an extended period of time."

"So you're saying understanding can spring from experience?"

Renji shrugged. "It is possible."

Seiichi snorted. "Sounds like something you would so say. Something so reasonable."

Then Seiichi paused. Renji felt the air around them thicken. Maybe it was just the humidity in the air, the vaporization of the rain.

"You know, you have these exceptional Genichirou-like moments. There are certain things you just don't quite _get_. I'm not saying that you're stupid or anything. But, it's like at times you tend to lack... Wait, that's not the right word." He hesitated momentarily. "It's like you tend to _lose_ the understanding to some things. It's not that you _lack_ the understanding because your understanding is there. But it's more like _lose_ because you can't find or you fail to fully apply your knowledge to such an understanding." (4)

"Then, perhaps you can enlighten me. Let me know what it is that I keep losing the understanding of."

Seiichi stared at him, the depths of his eyes almost like the cloudy gray skies： obscured and incomprehensible. He shook his head.

"Look a bit deeper, Renji. You might not like what you discover, but at least you'll understand. You have the knowledge to understand."

Then, he stood up and walked inside, deliberately leaving him alone to ponder, to rediscover the understanding he had lost.

…

They resumed their daily life routine as if they never had the atypical conversation.

Seiichi said to look deeper, to find that understanding that he had lost. But what was he looking for? What did he need to understand?

It was ironic how easily he found epiphanies in all the things around him, and yet he could not reach to an epiphany for the riddle Seiichi left him with.

He finished his story a week earlier than his set deadline, before they were to leave their summer home. Three hundred fifty two pages of handwriting. Big and small hiragana and kanji like beetles and ants crawling across lined pages. They were not his usual, neat and clean handwriting, the handwriting he used to record class notes and answers on test papers. Because the perfect handwriting there was as dull and unreal as the dead, unchanging, factual information his teachers taught him.

But writing a story was different. He not only contributed his cold logic into this story of his. He also contributed his fluctuating emotions. They were not dead. They were not factual. That was why, his handwriting varied with his emotions: they shrank to his fears, they grew with his confidence, they fell apart to his sadness, they converged to his happiness, they ran with his excitement, they marched to his stability.

After the completion of his final chapter, he dropped into his usual slumber.

But something was out of the ordinary this time. Unlike the deep, coma-like sleep he fell into normally, he detected his subconscious's rebellion and refusal for rest.

In the hazy wake of his subconscious, he felt a gentle hand upon his closed eyes, deterring him from regaining his consciousness.

And then something soft, cool, and moist met his lips. It disappeared a moment later and so did the cool hand upon his sore eyes.

He reached out automatically to grasp the source of cool tranquility. He needed something to comfort him in this heat and humidity.

That comfort returned to him under his covers. He immediately huddled toward the source.

When the cool comfort surrounded him, he found his subconscious finally able to let go, to join his conscious in slumber. As if it had been waiting for such a comfort all this time.

…

Seiichi asked to read his finished draft. The entirety of the draft in its lengthiness. The three hundred fifty two pages of hard, solid concentration along with the traces wobbling determination inscribed within.

He did not remember Seiichi being a voracious reader. In the years that he had known the other, he remembered the only books the other picked up to be books on gardening, school textbooks and books from his shelf. He would pluck one from his shelf whenever he came to visit.

Renji recalled the first time he asked him if he was interested in the same authors he was. But the other only smiled.

So then, why did he decide to read these pages?

He realized he had just uttered the question out loud when he noticed Seiichi looking at him intently.

"Ne, Renji, there's a question I wanted to ask you." Seiichi smiled innocuously, but his eyes cut him mercilessly like a surgeon wielding a scalpel. What did the other intend on extracting from within him?

"If understanding can spring from experience, then why is it that I still want to know everything about you? That at the moments you fail to reveal your true self to me, when you stubbornly refuse to share your secrets with me, I would still try as hard as I could to understand you with whatever pathetically puny bits of yourself you've chosen to reveal to me?"

He was stuck speechless. The scalpel of Seiichi's gaze not only cut through him but it also sliced away that thickness between them that he had dismissed as the typical humidity of summer all this time.

Like a hermit villager who hid himself in his windowless house, he suddenly found a massive tornado blowing his house apart. The Spring Tree hovering over the entire village came into his view for the first time in his life.

He wanted to say something. Anything.

But he found himself muted. Perhaps Seiichi had been right. Perhaps his subconscious confiscated his voice to prevent him from overexposing parts of himself he thought he should not expose.

As his mind worked to develop the words he _could_ use, his cell phone rang.

Who called him? Why was it ringing now when it never once rang to disturb him while he composed his story?

He glanced down at the caller ID. It was his home phone number.

He peered at the other apologetically. "Sorry."

Then, Renji excused himself, proceeding to the veranda before he flipped open his phone.

The conversation ended in three minutes and twenty-three seconds. His parents called to inquire about his well-being.

But that was not their main intention. They called to report their delight. That they received his letter of acceptance to the pre-med program at their chosen university. Strangely, he wasn't as elated as they were. He could not even define his current emotions.

Though, why did he feel a need to define his emotions now? His hand raked through his neat auburn strands, disarranging them.

When he headed back into the room, he found Seiichi nowhere in sight.

As if the other never confronted him previously.

The only things left on the table were the stacked papers of his finished draft and the black sketch book the other normally kept with him.

He sat down at the ebony low table. Dragging the sketchbook across the table's surface, he opened up the drawing pad and flipped through the pages carefully, perusing one by one.

The Spring Tree hovering above the village occupied the first page.

Renji turned the page, expecting more of Seiichi's surreal sketches. Instead, he found the following pages to only contain illustrations of him.

When he slept.

When he buried his face into his work.

When he stared out the window on the bullet train.

He, with his half-lidded eyes.

He, with his opened eyes.

Seiichi captured every detail clearly like a superior digital camera.

It was then, looking at these sketches that Seiichi's words rang through his mind again.

_"If understanding can spring from experience, then why is it that I want to know everything about you?"_

He considered the tree and the village concept. Seiichi was like the faithful villager in the village who gave the tree exceptional care, like he had given him all of his silent support in reality.

Yet, what about the situation in reverse? What if he analogized Seiichi to be the Spring Tree, and he, himself, to be a common villager?

_"The villagers of that village will acknowledge that tree. Yet, once they grow tired of such an everyday sight, or decide that they need something more appealing to look at, they will emigrate from the village." _

He had neglected the other's consideration, taken it for granted, almost, while the other guarded him with faithful determination.

Indeed, it was easy for the villagers to leave the village and look for a better life elsewhere. But, they had not even considered the possibility and their success at doing such a thing.

He smiled to himself in cold irony.

…

The room he awakened to was shrouded in darkness. But it wasn't a complete abyss. He could still see traces of the dim light from the stone lanterns in the distant garden.

He was still in the main room, lying on his side on the tatami floor. The stiff discomfort of his neck must have awakened him.

He had no idea when he had fallen asleep or how many times he looked through the sketchbook in reflection.

The sketchbook he held onto even in his sleep.

When his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, he found another face at a proximal but comfortable distance.

Seiichi. His companion slept on the floor before him with an arm tucked under his head.

He imitated the other, tucking an arm under the side of his head too as he gazed at the other quietly.

Cerulean waves framed his face and his lips parted slight to allow for the passage of soft breaths.

As he examined at the other now, he wondered if his companion had gazed at him the same way when he slept.

Seiichi.

When he found himself staring straight into glimmering depths, he realized he had called out his companion's name.

The clarity in the other's eyes did not belong to someone unwillingly aroused from his slumber.

The other had not been sleeping. He must have been waiting for him.

"I had a feeling you were going to call me." The other smiled at him, the twinkle in his eyes exclaimed, _"I knew it!"_

"...Is that so."

In the darkness, he saw Seiichi reach for him. He did the same before he could stop himself.

…

It was funny how their actual summer vacation began in the last remaining day of their stay at Yamagata.

For this day, he forgot all about the finished draft he had to revise. He forgot about the acceptance letter he had just received.

He spent the day exploring the shops and stands around the city with his companion, and picking out souvenirs for their families and friends in Kanagawa.

For lunch, they enjoyed grilled fish at a near-by restaurant. The walls and pillars and ceiling columns told of its history, its possible origin dating back to the Edo period. But the little eatery was tidy and had surprising amount of customers. It must have been a restaurant with an established reputation.

For dessert, they were served a small bowl of golden cherries, the specialty of the prefecture.

"Ne, did you know that the price for these went for 2300 yen (5) per pound?" Seiichi dangled the fruit at its stem.

"I see." He tucked the little fact away into the information storage in his mind.

Seiichi swallowed the bite-size fruit and buried the pit he produced from his mouth into a napkin.

"And, you know what else they say? If you can tie a knot on a cherry stem with your tongue, you're considered a good kisser."

The cherry stem disappeared into his mouth again only to reemerge hanging between his front teeth in a single, neat knot.

"I will take that as proof of your excellence in that area."

"Oh? Can you really say for sure..." He leaned into him. "...Unless you get firsthand experience?"

His breath tickled his cheek. Then he promptly pulled away.

Renji lifted an eyebrow. Seiichi only smiled innocently and remained quiet after that.

…

That night, they received a call from their friend back at Kanagawa. The friend who completed their unbreakable trio. The friend who was supposed to come along on the trip but did not.

Genichirou announced his return from his summer kendo training and asked of their scheduled return. He and Seiichi took turns talking on the phone. The three of them exchanged inquiries on each other's wellbeing. They traded short anecdotes of their own individual encounters this summer.

Even though he tried listening to the other's words with wholehearted interest, he could not disregard the feeling of irony, like a secret part of himself smirking sarcastically witnessing their conversation, that everyone back at Kanagawa just started to contact them all of sudden as their trip drew to a close. It almost seemed like they were being rushed home. That they needed to be reminded to return to their duties, their families, their friends they expelled from their vacation utopia.

"You better come pick us up at the train station tomorrow! I want you to be the first person we see when we get off." Seiichi demanded half-seriously.

After they bid each other good night and hung up, Seiichi commented, "It's good both you and Genichirou are actively pursuing your dreams."

His companion paused to correct himself. "Or rather, it's good to see that both of you have achieved your dreams."

"What about you?" Renji directed the question to him. "Did you achieve your dream this summer as well?"

Seiichi didn't answer him.

Instead, he fixed his gaze on him, and directed an unexpected question at him.

"You still want to know whether I'm a good kisser or not?"

Before he could answer, Seiichi leaned in to attach their lips together. His whole body stiffened initially at the unfamiliar contact. Then he relaxed at the introduction of a familiar gentle coolness at his cheeks.

He recognized the touch of the other's hands, the contact of his lips against his. These were the same sensations that comforted him, or rather, his subconscious, when he had given himself up to sleep at the conclusion of his writing.

A moist, muscular structure wriggled its way in between his teeth. Seiichi's tongue advanced into his mouth, lapping at a string of saliva on the tip of his tongue as if attempting to knot it the same way he knotted the cherry stem.

The other pulled away when he achieved satisfaction at last. That was, when the two of them suffered temporary hypoxia.

"So, what do you think?" Seiichi panted lightly.

He did not answer. Rare embarrassment prevented his speech. Though, his mind already secretly recorded the calculated conclusion.

"And to answer your question. Yes, I did. I achieved my dream this summer." Seiichi beamed and wrapped his arms around him. "If the world ended tomorrow, I would have no regrets."

As surprisingly resolute as Seiichi's declaration was, he could not help but agree with the other. Yes, if the world truly did cease to exist tomorrow, he would be left with no regrets.

Renji didn't ask about Seiichi's dream.

And neither did Seiichi tell him.

Yet, he perceived the answer already revealed to him in its own way when he saw Seiichi's colored illustration beside his completed draft.

…

The bullet train transported them back to Tokyo, where they would swap to a regular railway to take them home to Kanagawa.

This concluded the two and a half months of their summer getaway.

On the ride back, Renji didn't take a single look at the passing scenery outside the window. Instead, he enjoyed the fleeting moment inside, with Seiichi napping on his shoulder again.

He passed time reading Murakami's book he brought with him on the trip. The book he never opened. He read to the last story in the short stories collection. There, he discovered a quote that particularly pertained to him: _"Finding one person to love over the long haul of one's life was quite a different matter from finding friends."_ (6)

_"I love you forever"_ was a declaration couples made to one another as a way to seal and to preserve their relationship. Yet, when they uttered such words, did they realize that the extent of their life time may be longer than they perceived it to be?

He closed the book. Thus, the most important thing in life was to treasure each moment, as clichéd as it sounded, because some things were onetime deals. Because some things lasted shorter than people expected them to. His dream. This trip he took with Seiichi alone. This fleeting moment they shared. And the ambiguity of their relationship that could easily be dismissed later as a sudden impulse and sacrificed for the sake of their friendship.

Ideally, the Spring Tree would always serve as a guardian to the village and its villagers. Yet, in reality, no one could say for sure if the village or its villagers would always remain stationary, or if a "bolt out of the blue" (6) would strike spontaneously and destroy the tree.

Blocking off additional pessimistic thoughts, he closed his eyes to sleep at the other's side.

Somewhere in his ceaseless mind, he heard a distant melody. It was a popular song from a few years ago. He remembered hearing it in the past almost at every street corner at night. He caught it again recently during their friendly outing at the diner when Seiichi invited him on this trip.

The music did not adhere to his usual taste. But one line of the song surfaced from the obscurity of his memory at a quiet, nostalgic moment like this, perhaps to serve as a closing for this unique and unforgettable expedition.

_"If this is love, then let us sleep forever_." (7)

**[END BGM:** WANDS – "Sekai ga Owaru Made wa"**]**

* * *

><p><strong>END NOTES:<strong>

**(1)** A type of traditional Japanese inn with typical features such as _tatami_-matted rooms, communal baths, etc. Visitors there usually walk around in their _yukatas_.

**(2)** The Japanese name for such a train is _shinkansen_. They are known for their high speed, with the maximum speed to be about 149-186 mph. (source: JR-East site)

**(3)** The traditional Japanese-style room.

**(4)** An interesting concept discussed in Murakami's _Kafka on the Shore_.

**(5)** About 30 USD.

**(6)** From Murakami's short story, "Honey Pie."

**(7)** From "Sekai ga Owaru Made wa" by WANDS. Translations are done by Takayama Miyuki-san.

And if you're wondering about the ambiguity of the ending, about whether these two ended up together or not, you can interpret it however you'd like. :)


End file.
